


Touch My Heart (But Not My Ruffles)

by maph



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bokuto has too much energy, Drinking, Humor, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Dork, Kuroo is a cat, Kuroo is a lovestruck fool, M/M, Oikawa is a massive instigator, also mega possessive over food, hella denial, iwa/oik is implied but hey when is it not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:46:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maph/pseuds/maph
Summary: No one-no one, touched Kuroo’s cheddar-fucking-cheese ruffles, even if that person had biceps fit to worship and a smile brighter than the sun. Especially them.





	1. The Fated Meeting

Kuroo considered himself to be a pretty cup-half-full kind of guy. True, he could be snarky and rude and a bit (okay, a lot) of a smartass, but in the long run, Kuroo was an optimist. That outlook changed, however, when he unlocked his dormitory door, exhausted and run down from a full day of classes, to find a mysterious white-haired guy rummaging through his shared kitchen.

Because of his sheer lack of sleep, it took Kuroo’s groggy mind a couple seconds to realize that this person was  _not_ the asshat that, unfortunately, was his roommate.  But the minute his brain caught up to his eyes, Kuroo was all but ready to smash the metaphorical optimism cup in into the stranger’s face.

The thing was, Kuroo was honest to god not a violent person (though many of his friends would beg to differ after seeing his reaction when he was outwitted in an argument). Few things could truly tick him off and push him to the brink of assault, but lo and behold, this guy was acting upon one of his biggest pet peeves to ever exist.

He was touching Kuroo’s god damn food.

One of the stranger’s grubby, food-stealing hands was closing in on Kuroo’s super-secret stash of cheddar-cheese ruffles, clearly eager to reap the rewards of his find. Kuroo could see it now; the guy would tear open the bag with thieving fingers, scarfing it down in mere seconds like the horrible, horrible man he was while Kuroo was left in a puddle of tears on the floor, depressed, dejected, and ruffle-less.

The whole scenario was like a slow-motion video. The stranger’s fingers extended, clasping the bag by the top and pulling it from it’s safe haven on the highest cabinet shelf. Kuroo zeroed in on the hand with savage intent, pupils dilating in a way that could only be described as primal.

No one touched Kuroo’s cheddar-fucking-cheese ruffles.

No.

One.

His lips pulled into a sneer as he prowled into the kitchen, hand raised to smack the ever-living daylights out of the piece of shit that thought it was okay to touch his god damn chips.

 Alerted to Kuroo’s presence by the sound of footsteps, the stranger turned around and—

_Oh._ He was hot.

The guy grinned and suddenly, Kuroo’s lust for blood (and ruffles) faded away. “Hey man, I’m Bokuto! Sorry if I startled you, Oikawa let me in.”

Ah, yes. The asshat, Oikawa-fucking-Tooru. Kuroo didn’t think there could be a more annoying or unfairly attractive person than his roommate, but if there was he did _not_ want to meet them. Though Kuroo would admit, albeit reluctantly, that overall, Oikawa was a nice guy, even if he did have a few frustrating tendencies. One of which being the fact that he invited strangers into the dorm almost weekly. Kuroo didn’t know why he was even surprised anymore.

“Oikawa said your name was Kuroo, right? Digging the hair, man.” Kuroo had to forcibly wrench his gaze from Bokuto’s startlingly attractive own, reaching up to muss his already disheveled hair.

“Yeah, that’s me. Thanks, yours ain’t so bad either.” Bokuto grinned, causing Kuroo’s heart to jump into his chest. This guy was hot, almost too hot, but there was still one (not so) tiny issue to deal with. “Hey, uh, listen. I don’t want to seem like a massive dick or anything but those are kind of my ruffles.”

“Yeah Bokuto, Kuroo’s very territorial about his ruffles, I would put them back if I were you.” A new voice drifted from the doorway, drawing closer to reveal the worst roommate on the face of the planet, standing in all of his self-proclaimed glory. Oikawa.

Said man bounced into the room, tossing aside his man purse (“It’s a fucking _satchel!_ ”) and plucking the bag of ruffles from Bokuto’s grasp. He turned to Kuroo with an apologetic smile that Kuroo would have sworn was more mocking than sorry. “I told Bokuto he could let himself in, he’ll be staying with us for a bit.” Oikawa flicked Kuroo’s ear, earning him a feline hiss in return.  “Guess I forgot to tell him about how you literally worship those chips.”

Kuroo huffed, at this point more curious than annoyed. “Staying with us?” Not that he was complaining, or anything.

Bokuto chimed in, sheepishly carding his fingers through his hair in a motion Kuroo definitely did not follow. “Yeah, sorry man. Guess I’ll be intruding for a bit. My old roomie kicked me out.”

Kuroo cocked a brow. “Why?”

Bokuto blushed, hesitating to answer. “Well you see—“

“He was trying to make apology food for ruining the couch when his roommate walked in and startled him and he accidentally punched him in the face!” Oikawa butt in, looking very smug and very pleased. “He also almost burnt the dormitory down.” Bokuto’s blush darkened to the color of, um, something very red, and Kuroo just about fucking lost it.

He keeled over, clutching his stomach with one hand and the kitchen counter with the other. Though his hoarse cackle of a laugh was not particularly attractive, it was, however, very contagious, and not five seconds passed before Oikawa had joined in on the hysterical howling.

It took a matter of minutes for them both to calm down, but when they finally straightened Kuroo could have sworn he saw Bokuto, face alight with a blush, staring at him as he laughed. He shrugged it off, probably just the remaining embarrassment. Kuroo smirked, eyes still glowing with mirth. “Dude, that’s hilarious. I don’t mind if you stay, just how about you stay away from the kitchen.”

“Bokuto smiled abashedly. “Har, har, har. Very funny.”

“Kuroo grinned back. “You know it.” Looking between Oikawa and Bokuto, he gave a small nod and turned to leave. “I’m gonna go crash, sorry to cut all this short. But if I have to stay standing any longer I’m gonna collapse.” He trudged out of the kitchen and towards his room. “Night.”

Granting a backwards wave to Bokuto’s returned ‘good night’ while simultaneously flicking off Oikawa’s taunting call of ‘old man,’ Kuroo plodded into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Shucking of his clothes with a relieved sigh, he crumped face first onto his mattress, slinging an arm over his forehead. Maybe rooming with Bokuto wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Hopefully in the future, he would stay away from his ruffles.

 

* * *

Thankfully, Kuroo had no more issues with criminals trying to steal his food. He did, however, have a massive issue with the place where Bokuto was sleeping. The couch.

It wasn’t that he felt awkward with Bokuto sleeping where he normally relaxed. It wasn’t that he felt bad that he was forced onto the couch (though maybe a little). No, it was the fact that every morning for the past couple days Kuroo had been greeted with the sight of a sleeping Bokuto in a muscle shirt.

Gender had never mattered to Kuroo, if you were hot then you were hot, and that was that. But never, in all his life, had Kuroo felt so attracted to someone, or more specifically, someone’s muscles. Hey, it wasn’t _his_ fault that Bokuto’s arms were ripped. Kuroo couldn’t help but envision himself waking up in those arms, opening his eyes to white hair and—

Shit, he was starting to sound like a love struck 12-year-old. Gross. Shaking his head in disgruntlement, Kuroo lumbered his way into the kitchen, fumbling sleepily for the coffee maker and sincerely regretting his choice to take morning classes. Get them over with early, they said. It will be easier, they said.

Well _‘they’_ could go fuck themselves.

The finishing beep of the coffee maker drew him from his thoughts of hatred and animosity of the upmost scale. All ideas of a gruesome massacre (not violent, his ass) were halted by the alluring smell of the freshly brewed drink of the gods. Precious, sweet coffee. His life blood. Just the smell of it made Kuroo feel more animated and less like a college zombie and more like an Olympian.

Pouring himself a cup of the beverage equivalent of gold, Kuroo took a slow sip, and let out a moan of bliss.

“Woah bro, got a hard on for coffee?”

Turning to face Bokuto, Kuroo smirked. “Shut up, you couch monster. Who _doesn’t_ have a hard on for coffee?”

Bokuto laughed, ambling into the kitchen and kindly nudged Kuroo aside with his shoulder. “Fair enough.” Successfully pouring himself a cup, Bokuto pivoted and leaned against the counter, reclining himself right next to Kuroo. Their shoulders pressed up against each other, and in a normal situation, Kuroo would feel awkward as hell. Though this, this was different. It was comfortable, it was nice. It was normal.

Even though it had only been a couple days, interacting with Bokuto was like hanging out with a lifelong friend. After the general awkwardness of first meetings had faded, Kuroo found himself taking an instant liking to Bokuto’s personality (not just his arms). He was funny, bright, cheery, and just about as hyperactive as a year-old puppy. They had spent long hours talking and growing closer, and however reluctant Kuroo was to admit it, he was hooked.

The pleasant atmosphere was shattered as a loud thump followed by a string of curses echoed through the shared dorm. A moment of silence passed before Bokuto burst out laughing, and Kuroo, so wrapped up in his thoughts, jumped at the sudden noise and promptly inhaled his coffee, nearly sending a wheezing Bokuto to the floor.

A pissed off Oikawa stormed into the kitchen, furiously grumbling about ‘falling of the fucking bed’ and snatched the coffee pot from behind Bokuto. He opened his mouth to snap at him for laughing when he glanced at the two, paused, and eyed them curiously. “You two sure are close.”

Kuroo leered and made a face at his roommate, unable to speak out of fear his voice would crack. It was a miracle that Bokuto’s vocal chords were working because his sure were not. The white-haired man shrugged. “Yeah, dude. Jealous?”

Kuroo pushed a smirk onto his face, mentally slapping himself for being embarrassed. “He totally is, Bo. He wants what we have.” Was it just his imagination, or did Bokuto just blush? Hah, as if _._

Oikawa gave an indignant squawk in response, though still not losing the weird expression on his face. He grasped his coffee cup and after a few more seconds of subjecting them to his searching gaze, headed back out of the kitchen. “Okay, if you say so. Come on Kuroo, we have to leave soon.”

The one good side to the daily torture of waking up early was that Oikawa had been just as stupid as he had. Knowing that he wasn’t the only one in pain was always an excellent way to brighten Kuroo’s mood, especially if it was his roommate that was suffering too. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He glanced at Bokuto, sighing agonizingly as he followed Oikawa out of the kitchen, walking in an uncanny resemblance to the undead. “See ya tonight, bro.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Kuroo plodded off, unaware that golden eyes followed him long after he had disappeared into his room.


	2. Even Closer

On the seventh day of Bokuto’s stay, Kuroo’s professor decided to cancel his class and in a rare turn of events, he found himself waking up long after the sun had risen. Though his body had adjusted to early mornings, Kuroo found he had been able to steal a couple extra hours of sleep, and had dragged himself out of bed at nine instead of six.

Immediately upon exiting his room, Kuroo’s nose picked up the telltale smell of heaven on earth, and he all but bolted into the kitchen, completely ignoring the fact that he was only clad in his boxers. His eyes fixed themselves on the small black pot on the counter and he made a b-line towards it, only to be stopped by an outstretched hand.

“Morning, mop-head.” Just as he was about to snap at Bokuto to get out of his way (or so help him god), the white-haired man’s other hand extended towards Kuroo, blessedly holding out a steaming cup of coffee. Kuroo couldn’t help but be reminded of the painting of god reaching his hand down from heaven to a human. Did he love coffee a little too much? Maybe. Was he going to die of a heart attack at age 25? Probably. But holy fucking shit Bokuto just brought him coffee.

Snatching the proffered gift, Kuroo lifted it to his lips and guzzled half its contents in a matter of seconds. Lowering the cup over the bridge of his nose he stared Bokuto directly in the eye, expression deadly serious. “Bo, I think I love you.”

Seconds passed, and there was _no way in hell_ that Kuroo could have imagined the red that bloomed over Bokuto’s face. He blinked, once, twice, but the pink tint to his friend’s cheeks remained. Bokuto stuttered, letting out a slight chuckle. “Aww, thanks bro. I gotta be good for something, right?”

He was trying to play it off. _Bokuto was trying to play his blush off._ Confetti went off in Kuroo’s mind as he went into internal celebration mode. Maybe there was hope for his lazy ass yet. He laughed along with Bokuto, effectively deciding that his professor needed to cancel class more often. Preferably tomorrow. Or the next day.

“Hey, so my teacher’s out today, wanna hang out or something? I mean, as long as you don’t have any classes.”

Bokuto glanced at him with an excited grin, already as energetic as puppy (how the fuck did he do that it’s nine a.m.). “Nope, schedule’s all clear. What do you wanna do?”

Kuroo looked away for a moment, taking a few seconds to think. “We could go eat or something? I dunno about you but I’m really getting sick of the food we have here.’

“Even your ruffles?”

“Never.”

Bokuto chuckled, never _not_ amused by Kuroo’s obsession with the chips. “Sounds like a plan.” He glanced downward, letting out an appreciative whistle. “Though bro, you know I love looking at your body, you really should put some clothes on if we’re gonna go outside.”

Kuroo’s face flamed and he darted out of the kitchen towards his room, pearls of hearty laughter following in his wake.

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, after Kuroo had been showered, clothed, and fed, the two found themselves walking in the direction of a mutually loved burger joint, chatting amiably along the way.

“How come you never told me you played volleyball!?”

“Well, you didn’t either!”

“Fair enough. But still, I can’t believe we never talked about this.”

Bokuto grinned. “Yeah me neither. I was the ace at Fukurodani.” Smugly, he added, “I was _also_ the captain.”

“Oh, yeah? You ain’t shit, I was captain too.” Kuroo matched Bokuto’s smirk with one of his own. “I was a middle blocker at Nekoma.”

“No way! I can’t believe our schools never played against each other.”

“Yeah, crazy.”

The conversation petered out, and the two found themselves walking in companionable silence. It was the peaceful, relaxing type of silence, the one that can only be achieved when two people are acutely comfortable with each other. As Kuroo came to this conclusion, he couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

Making their way into the restaurant, Kuroo followed Bokuto towards the nearest booth, plopping down heavily on opposite sides. Their knees brushed casually as they got comfortable, ordering quickly as the waiter came up to their seats. With food choices out of the way, the two, once again, fell into easy conversation.

“You know, I never pinned you as the studious type. I mean, biochemistry, seriously? I kinda pictured you as the party all night type of guy.”

“Yeah Bo, biochemistry.” Kuroo quirked his brow, smirking minutely. “You jealous?”

Bokuto whined, flopping his arms onto the table. “ _Obviously_. If I had your brains I would do something awesome like, uh, cure cancer!”

Kuroo snorted. “Shut up bro, you’re smart too.”

“Sure, whatever mister I’m-too-smart-for-a-social-life.”

“Hey, I have a social life!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I did! My old boyfriend dragged me to a few parties last year.”

Bokuto cocked his head, blinked curiously. “Boyfriend?”

Kuroo nodded and flushed, internally damning himself for his slip of speech. “Yeah, I’m bi.”   _Nice going, dumbass. Now he’ll probably feel super uncomfortable around you. Intelligent, my ass._

He was pulled out of his mental admonishing by his friend’s warm hand on his arm. “Kuroo, you okay? Just so you know, I don’t give a shit over your sexuality, I’m actually gay myself.” Bokuto held his gaze, golden irises locking Kuroo in place.”

“Thanks, Bo. That’s a relief.”

“Sure thing, bro!”

And just like that, the nervous atmosphere snapped back to normal.

A few minutes later Bokuto and Kuroo’s food was set down and they pounced upon it like ravenous wolves, neither too keen on manners and etiquette. The meal went by relatively silent, seeing as both had their mouths too stuffed to utter even the inklings of a syllable.

After they finished eating, stomachs full and minds content, Bokuto and Kuroo left the restaurant and headed in the direction of the dorms. Reaching their place in no time, the two dragged their groggy selves into the dormitory and collapsed onto the couch.

Kuroo yawned widely, tonguing over his canines in the process, not noticing the way his friend’s eyes fixated upon his mouth. “I dunno about you man, but I’m tired as hell. I’m gonna go take a nap.” He glanced over, puzzled by Bokuto’s lack of immediate, loud response. “Bo?”

Bokuto started, flushing slightly as he shook himself from his reverie. “Yeah, same.” He paused, blinking owlishly. “Hate to break it to you bud, but you’re gonna have to move.”

“Huh?”

“You’re kinda sitting on my bed, bro.”

Kuroo jumped up, ruffling his hair in a thinly veiled gesture of embarrassment. “Right, I knew that.” He walked a couple paces toward his room before, as if on second thought, he spun sharply to face the couch again. Bokuto, who had already been laying down, stared at him curiously. “You wanna come sleep with me?”

Bokuto smirked lecherously, wiggling his eyebrows. “Didn’t know you thought of me that way, bro.”

Kuroo willed his face not to flame, only just understanding the implications of his sentence. He ducked his head down, letting tufts of hair fall into his eyes while he frantically shook his hands. “Jesus, Bo, not like that.” As if realizing how flustered he must appear, Kuroo forced his arms to a standstill. “It’s just that, I feel kinda bad you have to sleep on this stiff-ass couch all the time. Figured you’d want to sleep in a real bed.”

Golden eyes squinted as Bokuto grinned widely, throwing off the makeshift covers that had been draped over the couch. “That’d be great, thanks Tetsu!”

Wait a minute, _Tetsu?!_ As if mind-reading Kuroo’s question Bokuto laughed and once again wagged his brow. “I mean, if two guys are gonna sleep in the same bed they gotta be at least familiar with each other, right?”

Kuroo leered jokingly, nudging his friend aside as he walked towards his room, opening the door and vanishing inside. “Sure thing, Kou.”

He flopped down on the bed and squirmed around until he was satisfied, only to be jostled from his place a moment later by a second body thumping onto the sheets. Both rolled into a suitable position, backs so close to touching that Kuroo could feel his counterpart’s body heat. He let out a gusty sight of contentment and shut his eyes. Almost instantly, Kuroo felt his consciousness start to fade, but was pulled back by a whispered voice from behind.

“Hey, Tetsuro?”

“Hhn?”

“Thanks for letting me crash with you guys. Really appreciate it.”

Kuroo smiled faintly, arching his spine to touch Bokuto’s in a gesture of acknowledgment. “No problem man, I like having you around. It’s been fun.”

In turn, Bokuto shifted closer and pressed himself against Kuroo’s side, calling softly from behind. “Yeah, it has.” Bokuto sucked in a breath as if to say more, but seemed to think better of it, deciding instead to utter a few quick words. “Night, Tetsu.”

“Night, Kou.”

If in the middle of their nap Kuroo felt an arm wind around his chest and a soft breath upon his neck, he didn’t say anything, and certainly didn’t move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLease, I beg of you, comment! They fuel me to write more. I'M DESPERATE.


	3. Not Number One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, sorry. Who knew writing fanfics was so exhausting because I sure as hell didn't.

If Kuroo were to think back, his day had started off pretty well. He had finished all of his homework the night before, his morning class hadn’t been too strenuous, and best of all, Oikawa had been gone all day (something about going to visit Iwa-chan) so there was no one to annoy the ever living shit out of him. Yeah. It had been a good day.

  _Had._ The moment Bokuto burst into their dorm, shouting that his favorite human being on the entire planet, one Akaashi Keji, was coming to visit in exactly five minutes, Kuroo’s pretty good day took a turn for the worse.

 Bokuto, who, ten seconds prior, had slammed through the door and left it wide open, grabbed Kuroo by the shoulders and shook him violently, all the while screaming loudly. “Kuroo! Akaashi. Is. Coming. Akaashi. Soon. HERE!!”

Kuroo quirked an eyebrow and tried to extricate himself from any more sudden onslaughts, only to get promptly pulled back in when he voiced the question: “Who’s Akaashi?”

Bokuto grabbed his face, pulling it close to his own and stared with shining eyes into Kuroo’s own. “Akaashi is the best person to ever exist. Ever. He is the bacon to my egg, the apple to mac, the, uh—“

“The Tom to your Jerry?”

“Yes!” Hesitating slightly, as if sensing his friend's uptightness, Bokuto reached up and ruffled Kuroo’s hair. “Hey, Kuroo, you know you’re still my main bro, right?”

“Yeah, dick, I know. Stop doing that.”

“What? It’s not like I could possibly make your eternal bed-head worse. If anything, I just improved it.”

Kuroo growled playfully, moving his hands into an attack position, eyes focused on Bokuto’s own hair. “I can deal with many things, Bokuto Koutaro. But, an insult to my hair is not something I can ignore.”

“Oh, yeah?’

“Yeah.”

Bokuto bounced out of reach of Kuroo’s swiping hands, only to skid to a stop a foot away and come sprinting back at full speed. Kuroo, startled by this sudden action, hissed and tried to run but was promptly rendered immobile as he was tackled to the floor.

The two landed with a loud thud, lying on the floor dazedly before Bokuto resumed his ferocious assault upon his head. He ran his hands rapidly through Kuroo’s hair, and Kuroo himself, too busy wheezing his guts out ( _hey,_ it tickled alright), was all but powerless to stop it.

Kuroo croaked out the beginnings of a sentence, flailing his hands in a futile attempt to ward off Bokuto’s onslaught. “K-Kou, _Kou._ You’re a-actually killing me—“ He dissolved into another bout of uncontrollable laughter when his friend lightly stroked his fingers down his neck. “No, you a-ass, I’m ticklish! S-stop!”

Bokuto grinned diabolically, not budging from his spot atop of Kuroo. “What’s that? Can’t hear you over the sound of— _oof—_ _don’t kick me!_ Can’t hear you over the sound of—“

“Bokuto-san?”

“AKAASHI!” Bokuto scrambled off of Kuroo’s chest and ran towards the man in the doorway, yanking him into a tight hug.

Kuroo heaved himself off the floor, stumbling slightly before gaining his balance, and blinked curiously at the so called ‘best person to ever exist’. He was fairly tall with a build that could only be described as elegant, sporting neat, wavy black hair. His face was angular, accentuated by dark eyes, a narrow, pointed nose, and thick but clearly defined eyebrows.

Yep, it was decided. Akaashi Keji was one attractive dude.

This revelation did not bode well with Kuroo. He watched sulkily as Bokuto fawned over Akaashi, moodily scuffing his foot as he tried to ignore his friend’s obvious adoration of the man. Kuroo waited in the background, but the steady flow of Bokuto’s questions failed to slow and he remained to be shunned.

When minutes passed and Bokuto still hadn’t moved to introduce them, Kuroo turned around, figuring that now was as good a time as any to go brood sullenly in private. He had just started to pivot when a voice stopped him in his tracks. “Bokuto-san, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Oh great, was a perfect-fucking-gentleman. Even better.

Eyes widening, Bokuto bounced over (seriously, does this guy ever stop moving) and slung an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders. “Oh yeah! Kuroo, this is my best buddy, Akaashi.”

Kuroo stuck out his hand, trying his best to not appear as stiff as he felt. “Kuroo Tetsuro.”

Akaashi returned the gesture, shaking his hand with a reserved smile. “Akaashi Keji. Thank you for allowing Bokuto-san to room with you. I’m sure putting up with him is not particularly easy.”

Kuroo laughed, drowning out the sound of Bokuto’s offended whine with his own reply. “Nah, he’s not too bad. My other roommate, Oikawa, is the _real_ hell raiser here.”

Akaashi chuckled, seeming all too aware of the definition of ‘hell raiser.’ Realistically, Kuroo felt as if he should be pitying him. If _he_ had been on the same sports team as Bokuto in high school, Kuroo would probably snap from trying to keep Bokuto from jumping off the walls twenty-four-seven.

He tuned back into his surroundings as Bokuto once again aggressively rubbed his hand through Kuroo’s hair, shrugging him off with a light scowl. “Hey, Tetsu,” He turned, grabbing Akaashi and starting to walk off. “Me and Akaashi are gonna go get some food, catch up, and the likes. See ya later?"

Kuroo’s heart sank as he feigned a smile, waving the two out the door. “Sure, Kou. Go have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“So that means we can drunkenly jump into a river at two a.m. wearing a cat onesie, then get arrested for trespassing on private property?”

“ _Hey!_ I told you that in secrecy, you traitor!”

Bokuto laughed as he led Akaashi through the opening, calling a backwards goodbye as he left. Kuroo remained silent, unable to do anything but stare at Bokuto’s hand interlocked with Akaashi’s as he tugged the other out the door.

 

* * *

 

 Bokuto wove through the throng of people, taking care to avoid bumping into Akaashi who kept pace with him on his right. “So, Bokuto-san. Tetsu?”

He frowned, glancing over. “Yeah, what about him?”

“ _Tetsu?_ ”

Bokuto’s face flamed, finally understanding what his friend was insinuating. “ _Sh-Shut up!_ He lets me call him that!”

Akaashi merely cocked an eyebrow.

“We’re friends, okay?” Bokuto sighed, turning away from Akaashi to gaze resignedly into the distance. “Just friends.”

For the first time in his rather short, sassy life, Akaashi Keji was at a loss for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi ain't jealous, he just doesn't know how to comfort Bokuto.
> 
> If I had any artistic talent at all I would draw Kuroo hissing at someone from under a table while he hoards cheddar cheese ruffles. *hint hint nudge nudge*


	4. "Hella" Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating may be a bit sporadic since school started again. Also kuroo may seem a bit OOC because I decided to make him an emotional drunk. SUE ME.
> 
> I also didn't really like the turnout of this chapter I'm so sorry. It seemed a bit off to me, I dunno. I think I'm just a shit writer. XD

“Guess who just had the best date with Iwa-chaaaan!” Kuroo’s eyelids snapped open, and as any normal person would when someone screamed in their ear, instinctively lashed out, fist colliding with a wall of flesh. He jolted upwards from his position on the couch to see his roommate doubled over on the floor, wailing and clutching at his stomach. “Ow, _rude!_ What have I done to deserve this, jerk!”

If his insides weren’t feeling as if they had been flipped upside-down and sloppily shoved back into his body, Kuroo would be on the floor alongside Oikawa, laughing his ass off at his roommate’s pain. But unfortunately, his insides _did_ feel as if they had been flipped upside-down and sloppily shoved back into his body. So instead of collapsing on the ground, Kuroo grumbled sulkily and sank back onto the couch.

As Oikawa continued to flail about, Kuroo sighed softly and shut his eyes, hoping to catch a couple more hours of sleep before he had to watch Bokuto fawn over mister perfect-gentleman again. A couple minutes passed and he began to doze off, before he was pulled back into the waking world by a hand grabbing his leg.

Kuroo’s eyelids opened marginally, lazily swatting at the offending hand. “What.”

Oikawa, who had apparently all but forgotten about the previous “uncalled for and extremely rude” attack, blinked up at him from his seat on the floor. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course. What makes you say that?”

“Well for starters, you aren’t laughing at me like the total incompetent buffoon you are. Plus you’re being hella grouchy and moody.”

“Did you seriously just say ‘hella’ un-ironically? Get the fuck out of my dorm.”

“ _Our_ dorm, jackass.” Kuroo felt spindly hands take hold of his ankles, lifting them long enough for Oikawa to sit, before plopping his feet back down into his lap. “Kuroo, come on. I’m not stupid.”

Kuroo snorted.

Oikawa sniffed indignantly, but his upturned lip was enough for Kuroo to know he wasn’t actually offended. For a moment, silence fell over the two. Then, Oikawa spoke. And Kuroo really, _really_ , wished he hadn’t. “It’s about Bokuto, isn’t it?”

Well, fuck. Kuroo shifted, twisting his torso so that his head was buried safely in the couch cushions. The last thing he needed was for Oikawa see his face turn the same shade of bright red as his hoodie. But apparently, even his silence was enough of an indicator for his roommate.

 “Wanna tell me what happened?”

 “No.”

 “Do I need to boot his ass out of our dorm?”

 “No.”

 Oikawa sighed, rubbing Kuroo’s leg consolingly. “Wanna watch a movie and get _hella_ drunk?”

 A single, dark eye peered up from the depths of the couch cushions. “…Yes.” Oikawa sprang up and bounced into the kitchen, ignoring Kuroo’s succeeding threats to actually kick him the fuck out. 

* * *

 

“ _Kuroo!_ You threw off the emperor’s groove!” Oikawa’s indignant, slightly-slurred screech echoed throughout the dormitory, followed by the loud, raucous laughter of two people who were _extremely_ drunk. If their neighbors weren’t already pissed off by the blaringly loud TV, they sure as hell were now. Maybe apologizing later would be a good idea. Maybe.

 Kuroo’s vision swam as he peered up at the looming shadow his roommate cast above him, manically grinning at the sight of his puckered face. “Too looooud.” He whined and shoved his palm into the perpetrator’s face, only to promptly draw his arm back with a shriek louder than Oikawa’s had been. “ _Ew,_ you licked me! That’s gisdusting!”

 “Gisdusting?”

 Kuroo pondered for a moment. “…Gisdusting.”

 Oikawa giggled hysterically, collapsing onto the couch beside Kuroo when his knees could support him no more. Kicking his unfairly long legs to the side, Oikawa grabbed his friend by the hoodie, yanking him down until Kuroo’s head was smashed into his chest. Eyes focusing back on the movie, The Emperor’s New Groove, Oikawa mindlessly started to stroke Kuroo’s hair. “Poor Kuroo. Sweet Kuroo. My baby, my precious child. You—“ He grabbed Kuroo’s face, staring him dead in the eye. “You are my beloved kitten.”

Kuroo blearily batted Oikawa’s hands away, thumping his head back onto his chest. He tuned out Oikawa’s delirious rambling, deciding to focus on the movie instead. Kuroo knew that a comedic film such as this one, in which an emperor gets turned into a llama and is forced to go on an outrageous adventure with a peasant, is supposed to cheer him up and distract him from all thoughts of Bokuto. Unfortunately for his emotions and sanity, it did the complete opposite.

 Maybe relating to a man-turned-llama was a bit weird, but hey, when one is drunk off their ass, _nothing_ is a bit weird. Kuroo just happened to personally connect with the fact that Kuzco had been abandoned, and was depressed, lonely, and on the brink of death.

 “Kuroooo.”

 Well, maybe not the brink of death bit. But having his heart torn open did feel a lot like dying. Pretty much the same thing.

 “ _Kurooooo._ ”

 Huh, so maybe he was like Kuzco in more ways than he’d thought. Kuroo definitely _felt_ like that llama.

 “Kuroo!”

 Oh my god. Was he a _llama_?!

 “ _KUROO!”_

 Kuroo was jolted out of his very terrifying (and very drunken) theorizing by his roommate’s impossibly loud scream. He snapped his head up, glaring foggily into Oikawa’s equally muddled eyes. “ _What?!_ ” Kuroo snapped. “I’m having a god-damn-fucking crisis, Oikawa, what is it that you could possibly want?!”

 Oikawa blinked. “Hi.” He dissolved into manic laughter and would have tipped off the couch if it weren’t for Kuroo’s weight holding him in place. Clutching at his stomach, Oikawa shrieked and flailed, doing nothing to aid his friend’s steadily worsening mood.

 And while Oikawa cried tears of mirth, Kuroo was contemplating crying for real. He fumed, eyes prickling dangerously in frustration. Stupid Oikawa, not listening to his crisis. What an ass-face.

 “I hope you get alcohol poisoning.” This only sent Oikawa into further hysterics, successfully flustering Kuroo to the point of near eruption, and almost knocking over one of the several bottles lining a nearby table in the process.

 Too wrapped up was he in listing all the places Oikawa could shove that bottle to notice the telltale creak of the hall door opening. Too focused on not biting his roommate’s nose off to pick up the soft footfalls of an approaching person. Too absorbed in not exploding right then and there to notice an inquisitive gaze boring into his head. These tasks took up much of his effort and concentration, which is probably why Kuroo started so violently at the sound of Bokuto’s voice.

 “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

 Kuroo spasmed and dropped from the couch with a loud thud, stuttering his way through a long stream of curses as his back connected painfully with the floor. He stared misty-eyed at the ceiling, incoherently mumbling about his pathetic luck, and much to Bokuto’s confusion, llamas.

 And as if he were purposefully trying to make Kuroo’s life a living hell, Oikawa ceased laughing completely. God forbid the famous Oikawa Tooru did anything in halves. So instead of greeting Bokuto pleasantly, he downright sneered at him, waving an accusing finger in the other’s direction.

 “ _You!_ You hurt my son!”

 Bokuto mouth gaped, completely and utterly lost. “What?”

 “My precious son-kitten! My sitten!” He turned to Kuroo, who was deep in the process of trying to phase through the floor. “I’m gonna fight him. Kuroo, hold my flower.” Without waiting for a response, Oikawa shoved himself from the couch with the air of a man on a mission, a decision that ultimately turned out to be a massive mistake. He remained on his feet for an impressive five seconds before collapsing face-first back into the cushions, knocked out cold.

 “What the hell? Uh, Kuroo? Why was Oikawa trying to— shit, Kuroo?” While Bokuto had been transfixed on Oikawa’s dramatic display, Kuroo had taken that time to curl himself into a ball, ineffectively hiding the angry tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He was drunk, frustrated, and so incomprehensibly exhausted that all he wanted to do was sleep, even if that meant crashing on the dusty floor.

 A warm set of hands grasped his shoulders, gently hauling him into a sitting position and embracing him warmly. “Testu, buddy? What’s wrong?” Everything. Everything was wrong.

 Kuroo shoved his face into the crook of Bokuto’s neck. “I’m having a crisis.”

 Bokuto looped his arms underneath Kuroo’s and heaved him to his feet, practically carrying the taller boy as he began to move. “Let’s get you to bed, okay? Wanna talk about it?” 

Kuroo hiccupped sadly. “No.”

 “Okay, that’s fine.” Bokuto nudged open Kuroo’s bedroom door, taking care to mind the other’s dragging feet and limp arms. He placed him on the bed, lingering uncomfortably as Kuroo floundered about in his sheets. Hesitating a bit longer, Bokuto began to make his way to the door, softly speaking as he turned. “I’ll sleep in Oikawa’s room since he’s passed out on the couch. Hope you feel better in the morning.”

 Bokuto’s retreating back did not, it seemed, bode well with Kuroo’s delirious mind. He panicked and without thinking, latched onto his hand, jerking Bokuto to a stop. Refusing to meet his friend’s curious gaze, Kuroo stared at their interlaced fingers. His own darker hand fit perfectly into Bokuto’s paler one, and suddenly, his throat didn’t seem so dry. Kuroo lifted his eyes to meet the other’s stare, murmuring a hoarse “stay.”

 And Bokuto did.

 Climbing precariously over Kuroo’s limp frame, Bokuto collapsed to his left, pressing his back into the other’s like he had the first time they slept in the same bed. He shifted about, taking care not to disturb Kuroo’s position, and the sheer domesticity of it all almost became too much to handle.

 Lulled into a daze by the warmth of Bokuto’s back, Kuroo was well on his way to a comfortable sleep before suddenly, his eyelids snapped open, forgotten theories and thoughts flooding back into his brain. Sleep at a time like this? Nope, Kuroo was having a _crisis._ The need to speak swelled as his mind threatened to overwhelm him. A few seconds passed in silence before Kuroo was able to choke out a multisyllabic word.

“Kou?”

 “Yeah?”

 Kuroo sniffled, voice quaking slightly. “I think I’m a llama.”

  Bokuto rubbed his back consolingly, stifling something that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “I know bud, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo is an insane and emotional drunk. Oikawa is just insane. 
> 
> Oh, and also Oikawa and Kuroo were NOT, I repeat NOT hitting on each other if any of you thought that, Oikawa’s just a very touchy-feely drunk. We aaaall know there’s only one man for Oikawa, and that man is the muscle god himself.


	5. Wednesday is for the Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: don't start a goddamn fic without writing having a solid plot because I am a lazy piece of shit
> 
> After rereading the previous chapters I decided Bo and Kuroo are really only gonna refer to each other by their first names on special occasions because, I dunno, it was a bit weird. I mean if you look at most fics in this fandom, no one really uses first names.
> 
> AS MY MOTIVATION DROPS SO DOES THE QUALITY OF THIS FIC I'M SO SORRY I'M JUST TRYING TO CONTRIBUTE

It had been a week— a whole _week_ since the drunken ‘hey-sleep-in-my-bed-oh-by-the-way-I’m-having-an-existential-crisis’ event, a moment that Kuroo would admit was definitely not one of his best. Seven days had passed without incident, no freak-outs or awkward moments, and the dorm room was as close to paradise as it could get.

And Kuroo fucking hated it.

In any other situation, Kuroo would have taken full advantage the strange peace that had settled over his dorm. Oikawa was out more often, too preoccupied with his ‘adorable Iwa-chan’ to annoy him. There had been a sale on ruffles, so naturally, Kuroo had bought ten bags and the kitchen was more stocked than ever. The weather had been nice, his classes were in a lull, and college had never seemed so easy. So why did Kuroo, a person who cherished laziness above all things, detest the quiet so damn much?

Kuroo knew he should be grateful, he really did. But there was one small problem, one small hiccup in this period of respite that really put him on edge. And that problem came in the form of a new addition to the already cramped dormitory: Akaashi Keji.

He hadn’t moved in or anything (as _if_ ), but the fact that Akaashi didn’t sleep in the dorm made no difference whatsoever. He was still there _all the damn time._ Ever since Bokuto had first introduced Akaashi to Oikawa and Kuroo, he had apparently dubbed them all to be best friends and decided to invite Akaashi over every, single day. And much to Kuroo’s discontent, nine times out of ten, he accepted the invitation.

In fact, it had gotten so bad that Kuroo actually went out of his way to avoid Akaashi whenever he came over. If Bokuto and Akaashi wanted to watch a movie, Kuroo was conveniently drop-dead tired from his classes. If they wanted to go out and eat, Kuroo was too wrapped up in studying to leave the dorm. It was amazing really, just how good Kuroo was at pulling excuses from his ass. Oikawa insisted on him being severely jealous, and Kuroo being Kuroo, was too stubborn to admit it. But Kuroo _also_ being Kuroo, was smart enough to know it was true.

And then, after a week of avoidance and self-induced isolation, Oikawa decided to throw a party. In their dorm. On a Wednesday. Kuroo just wanted to live.

Or rather, he kind of just wanted to die. _Or see Oikawa die,_ Kuroo decided, smirking mentally as he envisioned one thousand and one ways to viciously murder his roommate. Maybe he should write a book. A book on how to murder Oikawas. Because god knows the world didn’t need more of them.

Of course, he had been joking about the book, but as Kuroo sat in his room trying to rub away the throbbing discomfort in his head, the prospect of writing it seemed all too real. Loud music thrummed through the dormitory, nearly but not quite drowning out the sounds of around thirty college students whooping and screaming at whatever the hell Oikawa had planned for his dumb party. Tinnitus was almost certainly guaranteed.

A sharp jab of pain pierced through Kuroo’s consciousness and he drove his fingers further into his temples to relieve it, groaning in immense frustration when his migraine refused to ebb. Ever the schemer, numerous plots, each more outrageous than the next, swirled about Kuroo’s brain, each involving complex plans as to how to get these damn people out of his dorm so he could study in peace. _I could pull the fire alarm, that would clear everyone out pretty quick. Nah, I could actually get in trouble for that shit. Fry the circuit board so the damn music and lights shut off and they have to leave?_ He snorted. _No, that’s even worse._ Kuroo rubbed at the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate his headache, gritting his teeth when it still refused to let up. Actually, vandalism was looking pretty promising right about now.

_No, Kuroo. Don’t destroy property, Kuroo. It won’t end well, Kuroo. Thanks mom._ Kuroo sighed heavily and glared angrily at his door, desperately trying to burn a hole through it, and hopefully, through the speakers in the living room. He could deal with the random thuds on his door causes by drunken stumbling, he could tolerate the raucous laughter of the partygoers, but he could _not_ deal with the freaking music. To block it out Kuroo would need a goddamn miracle.

And just like that, it hit him. _Oh my god, my headphones. Maybe god likes me after all._ With his hopes raised, Kuroo heaved himself from his desk and towards his nightstand, eyes fixated on the plastic headphones he kept by his bedside. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Kuroo’s knees crumpled weakly, along with his will to live. He had carelessly left his saving grace, the only ace up his sleeve, in the god damn kitchen. _Never mind, god hates me. I’m going to hell._ An obnoxious cheer started up from beyond his bedroom door. _Or maybe I’m already in it._

Unfortunately for Kuroo, without his headphones the ear-grating, intolerable music could still be heard, and he would be unable to concentrate. Kuroo needed that damned, life-saving piece of plastic and he would even brave the dangerous unknown to get them.

After about five minutes of dramatic self-loathing, Kuroo picked himself off the floor and with a sigh so exasperated he didn’t know was possible for a person as young as he to make, opened the door.

Kuroo immediately regretted it. As it turns out, he had been sorely mistaken when he thought the music had been loud from the safe confines of his room. But now that his door was open, Kuroo was almost positive that blood was dripping from his ears. And from all the color his eyes were being subjected to, he wouldn’t be shocked to be wiping blood from them too. Kuroo didn’t know why he was surprised that Oikawa managed to find a color changing disco ball that was sure to put any person with epilepsy in a coma.

The living room alone was packed with gyrating bodies, drunkenly dancing to the beat of the music. The dorm that had been pitched in a deep blue when Kuroo walked out was now an eye-abusing red, and was well on its way to darkening into a green. Cups littered every bare surface in the room including the ground, surely staining the carpet with booze. Kuroo’s nose wrinkled in disdain, the living room would be stinking for weeks. He made another mental note to murder Oikawa and put the world out of its misery. Did Kuroo mention it was the middle of the week?

Carefully shutting his door (he didn’t need anyone sneaking in there to make out, no sir), Kuroo waded out into the throng of people, arranging his facial features into one of a seriously pissed-off dude. It was easy, really. Lowering his eyelids to half-mast and pulling his lips into a scowl, Kuroo tilted his chin down just enough to make himself look menacing as hell. What could he say, Kuroo was a master at the ‘if-you-talk-to-me-I-will-cut-you’ face, probably thanks to all the practice he had with Oikawa’s insane antics.

Luck seemed to be on Kuroo’s side for once, seeing as his ticked off expression had people practically bolting from his path. All people except one.

Having successfully navigated through the crowd of drunk people and into the kitchen, Kuroo began to look frantically around for his headphones, and spotting them lying on the counter, made a desperate lunge in their direction. A triumphant smile curled across his face as his fingertips brushed against its padding, only to be pulled back by a harsh tug to the collar of his t-shirt. 

Kuroo choked under the sudden pressure, reaching backward and grabbing the mystery hand, shoving it away aggressively. “Hey, Kuroo! So, you finally came out of your cave, huh?” Despite the sentence being populated by slurred syllables, the enthusiastic lilt of the person’s voice made it all too obvious who his accidental strangler had been. Kuroo froze, all thoughts of his impromptu assassination gone. Bokuto.

“Hey, Bo.”

Bokuto grinned widely and rested his arm on the nearby counter, causing his biceps to flex attractively. Not that Kuroo noticed or anything. “You coming—“ Bokuto hiccupped. “You coming to join the party?”

 Kuroo stared dryly at his friend’s alcohol flushed face, giving him the blandest ‘are you serious’ expression he could muster. “It’s Wednesday.”

 Bokuto cocked his head. “And?”

“ _And_ I’m trying to study.”

 Unexpectedly, Bokuto lurched forward, and much to Kuroo’s chagrin swung an arm around his shoulders. Hot breath tickled his ears and Kuroo fought to keep himself from flushing. “Aw, but _Kuroo._ We haven’t hung out in like…” Bokuto’s eyes flicked upward, looking as if he were working out a difficult math problem in his head. Shrugging, he gave up. “I dunno, A lot of days. Sometimes I feel like you’re avoiding me.”

 Kuroo shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet Bokuto’s way-too-close eyes (seriously, when did their faces get _that_ close). “I’ve been busy with classes.” When Bokuto didn’t respond and instead just stared accusingly, Kuroo tacked on a muted “sorry” to the end of his sentence.

 Despite the fact that Bokuto was clearly a bit tipsy, it only went to show just how awful Kuroo’s excuse was that even _he_ was looking skeptical. Luckily for Kuroo, Bokuto didn’t push it. “Eh whatever, if you say so. Just come have one drink with me and we’ll call it even.”

 “I dunno, Bokuto.”

 “Come on man, it’ll be fun!”

 Kuroo sighed, doing his best to school his features into an expression of boredom, all the while fighting to hold back a smile. “Fine, just one.”

 

* * *

 

“—and then I got arrested for trespassing!”

 Kuroo threw back his head, shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. Reclining on the couch besides Bokuto made him feel like everything was back to normal, like Bokuto wasn’t always attached to the hip with Akaashi. He felt comfortable around Bokuto, and for the first time in a while he felt himself truly relaxing. Kuroo snorted and took a small sip of his drink. “Only you would get arrested for something like that, you oaf.”

 Bokuto’s features pulled into one of exaggerated offense, putting a hand on his chest in mock horror. “Dude, are you seriously gonna blame me for wanting to go to Chucky Cheese at twelve a.m.?”

 “Yes.”

 “Rude!” Kuroo closed his eyes, ignoring the buzzing in his head and the warmth on his face, both of which that had everything to do with the alcohol and _nothing_ to do with Bokuto. Why had he let himself get dragged into this? It was only going to hurt more when he finally had to bring himself back down to the harsh reality that friends was all he and Bokuto would ever be. The only _real_ good that had come from this conversation (other than Kuroo’s happiness, but that was irrelevant) was that he had finally come to terms with his emotions. Kuroo was one hundred percent head over heels for Bokuto.

 The sudden warmth of another person drew Kuroo from his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he barely refrained from flinching when the first sight he was greeted with was Bokuto’s face mere inches from his own. “Hey Kuroo, bud, you’re spacing out.”

 Kuroo shook his head, dispelling his rapidly darkening thoughts. “Oh, sorry.” He glanced away, fidgeting uncomfortably as he tried to remain unaffected by Bokuto’s proximity. To his upmost despair, Bokuto only moved closer.

 “Nah, it’s cool.” Bokuto took a long gulp out of his cup and shifted so their thighs pressed together. “So, I’ve told you stories of my epic stupidity. Got any dumb stories of your own?”

 Kuroo hummed, taking a couple seconds before responding. “I dumped a kid into a trash can once.”

 Bokuto sputtered, nearly spitting his drink down his front. “W-What?!”

 Kuroo shrugged. “She deserved it.”

 “ _She?!_ ”

 “She was a brat, okay? Annoying as hell. Wouldn’t shut up.”

 “How much younger than you was she?”

 Kuroo hesitated briefly before mumbling something under his breath. Bokuto grabbed his arm and tugged him closer, emphasizing every word with a shake. “Fess up, you heathen.”

 “…r years.”

 “What was that?”

 “Four years younger.”

 Bokuto burst out laughing, covering his face with his hands as he strained to calm down. “Dude I just lost all the respect for you I ever had.”

Kuroo sighed, realizing that defending himself was futile. The little punk really had deserved it, honest. He watched resignedly as Bokuto cackled, trying and failing not to stare at the way his eyes wrinkled as he laughed. Bokuto really was amazing, the bright smile, the wide, gleaming eyes, the way his hair was always spiked no matter—

 Oh shit. Bokuto had stopped laughing. Instead of cracking up, the shorter man was staring Kuroo dead in the face, and had been for an unknown amount of time. Kuroo viciously berated himself mentally for spacing out, especially for getting caught in the act. And speaking of spacing out, Bokuto was still staring.

Kuroo felt Bokuto shift against him, only just remembering their closeness. He tried to hide his blush, he really did, but the warmth in his cheeks proved his vain attempts had failed. He glanced away embarrassedly, looking everywhere but at his friend’s face. And Bokuto was _still fucking staring._

 “Hey Kuroo speaking of stupid things, do you mind if I do something stupid?”

 Kuroo’s eyes shot from where they were counting the fibers in the carpet to Bokuto’s face. Golden eyes peered at him from underneath hooded eyelids as Bokuto’s hand lifted to brush a stray piece of hair from Kuroo’s forehead. If Kuroo hadn’t already been blushing he would definitely be as red as a goddamn firetruck, but was he just imagining things or was Bokuto flushed as well?

 Realizing his still hadn’t responded, Kuroo coughed awkwardly, a bit flustered. “Uh, I guess?”

Bokuto swallowed and nodded. Kuroo stared at him expectantly, glancing at his limbs in anticipation of an outrageous, Bokuto-like action. Which was why he was so blindsided when Bokuto leaned forward and pressed his lips to his own.

 Light flashed in Kuroo’s head as synapses began to fire off at break-neck speed, creating an explosion of sparks and stars. Soft lips were pressing against his own chapped ones, moving in time to whatever ghastly song was blaring through the speakers. Too startled to do anything more than gasp, Kuroo’s mouth parted and was immediately filled by Bokuto’s tongue.

Kuroo groaned, fluttering his eyes closed as Bokuto’s kiss became more aggressive, slowly easing himself backwards until he was leaning on his elbows. He tangled a hand into the back of Bokuto’s head, pressing their faces together more firmly. There was no time to breathe, no time to think, only time for Bokuto and his mouth and—

Akaashi. 

Eyes shooting open, Kuroo surged upwards and forcefully shoved Bokuto off of him, wiping away a thin string of saliva that dangled from his puffed lips. His pupils narrowed and hardened as he stared coldly at Bokuto’s confused expression, forcing the ache of longing to the back of his brain. His mind swirled tumultuously, a raging cyclone of fury, confusion, and mostly, hurt.

“What the _fuck_ , Bokuto?!”

“Wha—“

“I’m not a fucking placeholder!”

Bokuto’s furrowed brow only served to heighten Kuroo’s anger. He was furious, so mad at himself for being used that he felt that if he tried he could probably spit fire. Bokuto opened his mouth again, probably another half-assed excuse, but Kuroo refused to let him. He growled lividly, barely keeping himself from screaming. _Hold it together, Kuroo. Just a little longer._

“I’m not your goddamn option B, Bokuto.” Kuroo sneered. “Don’t pull shit like that again.”

With a final, icy glare, effectively cutting off any response from the man still sprawled on the couch, Kuroo whirled around and left. He shoved his way through the throng of people, ignoring the annoyed glances that were thrown his way.

 Reaching the door Kuroo wrenched it open and slammed it as he walked out, nails cutting half-moons into his palms. He left the building and stormed off the college campus, walking until he could walk no more. Glancing around furtively to make sure no one was nearby, Kuroo let himself collapse against the side of a rusted vending machine. He curled in on himself, eyes squeezed tight and teeth pricking his lip.

Then, and only then, did Kuroo allow himself to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo's a dramatic piece of shit what can I say
> 
> Also he's totally dumped little kids in trash cans and if that's not canon then what even is life


End file.
